


That Godforsaken Rock

by Tender Blade (Dagger_Stiletto)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe, Angst, Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Keith's Temper, Langst, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape Aftermath, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Sick Character, Space Pirates, lotor is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagger_Stiletto/pseuds/Tender%20Blade
Summary: When Lance is wrongfully accused of a crime he didn't commit, he's abandoned on a desolate planet, but Hunk doesn't rest until he can bring his brother back home where he belongs.





	That Godforsaken Rock

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this written for a few months, but I never got around to posting it for some reason. This was beta'ed by [dvoiddubs](http://dvoiddubs.tumblr.com/)!  
> I hope you enjoy!

_Lance stares up at the stars surrounding this_ desolate planet, more like a glorified asteroid than anything, as it is the relative size of an island people get stranded on in the old movies on Earth. He's been here for so long, and without a sun to rise or set, that he has no sense of real time. He bases it on wakefulness and slumber. If this timekeeping method is to be trusted, then he has been here for... five weeks?

Yeah, that sounds about right.

The trees resemble what Dr. Seuss had described in his story about the Lorax--those fluffy Truffula trees that aided in the creation of the Thneeds--with orange and yellow foliage rather than green. The bushes are a little more coarse than the leaves of the trees, and they are darker in color. The ferns are green but barbed like nettle plants. The water looks like what he's seen on Earth and is cleaner, so much so that it aids in healing any abrasions he obtains during his stay here.

Food here is scarce. He's scoured the area for edible foodstuffs, but without a proper scanner, he has to play a terrifying guessing game. He's still recovering from having consumed a mildly poisonous insect which had caused his limbs to go numb; his left arm has yet to recover full mobility and sensation four "days" later. A berry that had resembled a blackberry had caused him severe intestinal discomfort, including cramping and diarrhea. The fish here are too quick to catch, especially in his weakened and handicapped condition, and some have razor sharp fins that have sliced into his legs a few times; luckily not deep enough to worry about.

He has lost weight and muscle, evident in how his clothes - now threadbare and stained beyond recognition - hang off of him. He has a rattle in his lungs with every breath he takes, and a tremble from the cold that he can't seem to assuage. He barely has the energy to wake up anymore.

He doesn't know why he does. The hope that his crew will come back for him dwindles with every moment that he wakes and realizes he is still alone on this godforsaken rock.

It's maddeningly quiet here, especially compared to the constant hum of technology that kept the Altea Sky moving through space and the idle chatter that filtered amongst the ship's crew. He misses his crew, his surrogate family. He misses noise, the closeness, the feeling of belonging. For so long, the crew has been all he had to live for, and now it's gone.

They left him here to punish him for something he hadn't done. They--or rather he--wouldn't listen when he tried to profess his innocence, tried to deny the claims. The only one who believed him was Hunk, the darling head cook in the kitchens who had come with him to join the crew of space pirates when his family had exiled him for loving men as well as women--a demon in their eyes. Allura, Shiro, and Coran remained neutral.

Two against a whole crew stood no chance.

Being innocent, Hunk was allowed to stay. Lance, the accused, was abandoned on the first land mass that looked like it could sustain life with only the clothes he wore at the time, a knife, a few angry bruises, the ache of betrayal, and a broken heart.

Meanwhile, the cause of all his problems gets off Scot-free, rubbing salt in the wound.

A cool wind brushes over him, and Lance shivers, giving up stargazing in favor of heading for the small cave in which he's taken up residence to escape the cold. He trembles as he shuffles there, collapsing heavily to sit several feet inside. As he hadn't found any larger animals aside from some nasty fish in the nearby ponds and streams, he has no blankets or furs to curl up in. He wraps his misery over himself, his arms clutching in a feeble hug around his torso. His head leans against the wall of the cave, eyes staring out of its mouth.

A rattling sigh shudders from his lips, heavy eyelids closing briefly. His heart hurts with longing and the love he still felt for Keith Kogane, the Altean Sky's second-in-command. He'd been smitten with the other pirate since day one. He'd hidden it for well over a year before a drunken night on some shit planet brought them into each other's arms and Keith's bed. They'd been inseparable. Until a new member set his sights on Lance.

Lotor, the purple-skinned bastard, had taken everything from him. He doesn't even know what he'd done to attract the man's attention. He never wanted it.

At first, it was just little things that Lance paid no mind to. Then Lotor began a more intense pursuit of him. Keith saw uncomfortable stares and comments but didn't seem to think they were anything to worry about, so Lance never made a big deal of it. Hunk insisted Lance tell their captain, Takashi Shirogane, about the harassment, but Lance was the type to either handle his problems on his own or ignore their existence. He didn't want to cause any trouble for his surrogate family.

Then one night, they were celebrating the successful plunder of a corrupt royal's shipment of high-end goods. It put everyone in high spirits, especially since the job had been so easy that no one had gotten so much as a splinter for injury. Lance was dancing with the other pirates, drinking, for sure, but not too much, laughing and enjoying himself. He even gave Lotor a dance, which he cut short when he felt a hand grope his behind.

But once Keith and Shiro disappeared to discuss business, Lotor saw Lance as fair game. Lance remembered dancing, remembered feeling too woozy for the little amount of alcohol he drank, feeling drugged. He doesn't know how it happened, but he ended up coming out of a haze to feel himself being pressed into a bed that wasn't his.

His next clear moment was when he woke with a burning in his ass, bruises from cruel hands littering his skin, and blood between his thighs and under his fingernails. Even drugged and blacking out, he'd fought against being taken by anyone other than Keith. The marks on Lotor's face and shoulders were defensive, not those of passion. He hadn't _wanted_ it.

But all Keith saw was his lover in another's bed. He didn't see the pain and fear, the last vestiges of a drug still muddying his usually bright gaze. He didn't see the blood from where his hole had been torn from an unwanted penetration. Something inside Lance died when he realized Keith thought so little of him, that he believed Lance would so easily turn to another as soon as Keith turned his back. Lotor made a convincing story. His silver tongue twisted lies that only enraged Keith further. The only one who believed him was Hunk, and he was there adamantly defending Lance's good name.

Despite this, despite everything they'd shared and done for one another, Keith raged at Lance, said hurtful things, even went so far as to backhand Lance in the face--at which point Shiro finally interfered.

Of course, the best solution was to maroon Lance here. Meanwhile, Lotor gets off Scot-free, comfortable in his treachery and continued place with the crew despite having only been with them for a few months, and Lance having been there for over a year.

Lance turns away from the outside world. He sluggishly crawls to the back of the cave where a pile of soft vegetation from the Dr. Seuss trees he's accumulated awaits him. He lies in a way that his struggling lungs aren't compressed. A few stubborn tears squeeze out from his tired eyes.

He wonders how long it will take for him to die this way. If he doesn't die from eating something even more hazardous than what he has already consumed, it's only a matter of time before the illness in his lungs claims him. He's just so tired, and without the ones he'd called family, he truly has nothing to live for. A dry rasping sob escapes him. There is no escape from the hopelessness he feels. Every "day" that goes past eats away at the hope that they'll come back for him.

At some point he falls asleep. He awakes with dried tear tracks making his skin sticky and gross. As he has each time he awakes, he makes a mark on the wall beside his nest to document the "day" he's been here. He counts them up: 37. Over a month, if his method of timekeeping can be trusted.

He crawls out of the cave, rising to his feet once outside. Shuffling, Lance makes his way to the nearby stream so he can wash away yesterday's misery to make room for today's. Once sufficiently "clean", Lance scrubs his tattered garments as best he can, which he's done every three days or so, and hangs them on a branch. With the near constant breeze here, they'll be dry in an hour or two.

Wandering naked, he goes in search of the weird peach-colored berries he found two days ago which so far have given no ill-effects. His stomach no longer growls in hunger, as if it has grown intelligence and knows when to give up on complaining. The ache is still there, but he hardly notices it anymore.

He happens upon a new batch of the berries, the bushes bearing the fruit thrice as often and twice as plentiful than usual. It appears that the local insects had not yet fully harvested here. His mouth waters, and he takes a few minutes to fashion a crude satchel out of large leaves and flexible vines so he can gather as much as possible to take back with him. He eats as he picks the berries, and when he feels like he has enough for a few days, he carries it all back to the cave to store.

He sits and rests after, lamenting his total lack of energy now. He used to have an endless amount of stamina, but now he tires out with only a few hours of activity. He's like his abuelo, who only ever seemed to have the energy to sit on the porch and shake his cane at the "neighborhood hooligans."

Several hours later, as he's carefully stepping into his dried clothes once more, Lance senses something a bit off. He pauses and glances around, frowning. The wind has picked up. The insects have hushed a bit, as if they too sense something different. A new noise has taken precedence instead. Dimmed blue eyes look up into the odd trees, trying to figure out what's going on.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to recognize the sound. That was the distant roar of a spaceship entering a planet's atmosphere.

His heart jumped into his throat. What did this mean? Who was approaching? Was it a rescue? Was it just someone lost and needing to touch down on the closest land mass? Had Keith decided to come back and finish him off?

Should he go see what's going on? Or should he hide away in his cave and wait?

He sits at the edge of the stream for a few moments, debating. Then he decides on the latter. Standing, he trudges his way back to his hole. Investigating will only cost him energy he can't afford to spend. If it's important, if it's a rescue, they can very well hike their asses through the forest and find him. He's too tired as it is.

Fluffing his nest so he can rest in comfort, he listens as the ship gets closer. He feels the tremble through the earth as it touches down, disturbing the otherwise calm atmosphere. He resolutely ignores the urge to get up and look. The rattle in his chest tells him that leaving curiosity unsatisfied is the best choice at the moment. Blue eyes close as he resigns himself to waiting and listening for the approach of the intruders. The planet is too small for it not to happen eventually.

He must have dozed off because the sudden sound of heavy boots startle him to wakefulness. He gasps, sitting up too fast and wrenching a harsh bout of painful coughing from his exhausted lungs. The noise is loud enough for the newcomers to pause before crashing through the underbrush with renewed vigor.

In a matter of minutes, someone is at the mouth of Lance's cave. The exhausted Cuban watches through watery eyes as the shadowy form cautiously enters. A flashlight switches on, and he flinches, eyes squinting shut, unused to light after not having hardly any for almost a month. He hisses with pain.

"Lance? Oh thank the gods, Lance!"

A wounded wail he doesn't voluntarily make--and will later fully deny--drags out of his throat. He reaches out blindly, eyes still squeezed shut, and in instants, he feels a large hand riddled with calluses close around his hand. His best friend crowds him, circling him in a hug, gentle but firm, strong and comforting, and Lance trembles with the sudden touch of another person. He clings desperately, tears in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Lance queries brokenly, fingers grasping at the plates of armor making up Hunk's suit.

"We're bringing you home," Hunk says firmly, though his voice trembles with emotion. He plunks down heavily on his butt, dragging Lance close. "You're so skinny," he laments, fingers deftly feeling out his ribs and the knob of his spine. "I finally fattened you up to a nice, healthy weight, and here you are thin as a rail again!"

Lance laughs wetly. "Can't help it when the bugs are poisonous and I don't have a scanner to pick out the edible fruits. Had to do it all the hard way." He coughs harshly, voice failing. He hasn't had to use it in forever, and it dies quickly under the strain. He burrows into Hunk's heat gratefully, still clinging with what strength he has left. "Who's we?"

"All of us, m'boy," says Coran. His footsteps are light as he approaches. Lance releases one hand's grip so he can reach out for the older redhead. The Altean crouches beside Hunk, gripping the Cuban's hand gently. "A lot has happened since the _incident_ , but believe me, neither Hunk nor I have rested in trying to prove your innocence."

Lance blinks tiredly at the other man, fingers spasming in his grasp.

"We'll explain once we have you on the ship," Hunk says firmly. He scoops beefy arms under and around Lance to lift him in a bridal carry. He curves his arm carefully around so as not to exacerbate whatever is wrong with his breathing. "You need rest and a real meal."

Hunk and Coran escort Lance out of his cave. With the lights focused elsewhere, Lance is able to open his eyes and observe what is going on around him. Allura and Pidge are scanning vegetation and insects to gather data. Slav follows them with a satchel and sample baggies and petri dishes. Shay and a few of the male crew members harvest the fluffy foliage from a dozen or so trees, though they don't completely decimate the resources. Standing off to the side and as far as he can get from Slav, Shiro documents everything, taking inventory of the amount of loot they'll be carrying away.

Keith and Lotor are nowhere to be seen.

Shay rushes over as soon as she sees the trio, and she looks seconds away from crying when she sees Lance's condition. He makes soft, wordless noises to try and placate her, but really, he's too tired to put much effort in it. Of course, once he's been seen by one, the rest of the crew turns to watch, all eyes on him. Most are guilt-ridden and concerned, wary. Lance can't find it in himself to care.

Shay opts to follow Hunk and Coran as they take him to the ship. It's not far from the cave, perhaps two or three miles, but they must have been combing the area thoroughly when they began the search for him for it to have taken long enough for Lance to fall asleep through it. Hunk wastes no time in taking his weak and sick friend to medbay, where Coran sets up an examination table and a cryopod for healing.

Lance allows Hunk and Shay to undress him and examine his skinny, trembling body for his injuries and any extraterrestrial parasites he might have missed. He placidly watches his friends move around him, and Shay even opts to comb the gnarls from his hair and shave the scruff from his face.

"There. Almost done. Now all you need is a stay in the cryopod, some rest, and a few rounds of antibiotics to fight off that nasty infection in your lungs, m'boy," Coran says, patting his back, seeming not to pay any mind to the sharp knobs of his vertebrae.

"And a meal or twenty," Hunk adds decisively, expression fierce. He lifts Lance, like a baby, and tucks him in the crypopod. He cups the side of Lance's face as dim eyes blink up at him. "See you in a bit, buddy." He steps back and closes the doors. Lance doesn't close his eyes until the last second.

~*~~*~*~*~~*~

 _When Lance wakes up and stumbles out of_ the cryopod, it's to a face he isn't expecting at all. Still weak and a little disoriented, he flails and falls straight into Keith's arms. Keith enfolds him in his grasp, and for a moment, he lets it go, resting against the shorter but stronger and broader form. He'd missed this safety there, the warmth those arms had so often awoken in Lance's soul. Tears prick the corners of his eyes.

He sees Hunk, however, and pulls away resolutely, preferring the comfort of the only one that had believed him the whole time. What had once been the safest place in the galaxy no longer holds the same appeal, not after what the owner of said embrace had done and said to him a month ago. Hunk hugs him with one arm.The hum of the ship around him tells him they are space-borne once more, and something in his soul settles for the first time in what seems like forever.

Lance looks around medbay to see the whole original crew present: Shiro, Allura, Keith, Coran, Pidge, and Hunk. Hank shoves a nutrition bar into his hands, and Lance focuses on not inhaling it like he wants to, the first thing he absolutely knows without a doubt will not kill him. He forces himself to eat it in small bites under Hunk's watchful eye.

"Clearly, I've missed something for Shiro to be looking at me like a kicked puppy," Lance says after he swallows the last of the nutrition bar. He avoids eye contact with Keith, as he doesn't think he can bear the expression on the half-Galran's face.

Coran hands Lance a glass of water and a small paper cup of medications, most likely for the infection in his lungs the cryopod couldn't cure. Lance chases them down with the water.

"Hunk and I refused to believe everything that snake Lotor said," Pidge grumbles from her seat on one of the examination tables. She's glaring at Keith and Shiro, and Lance notices that the two are noticeably separate from the rest. Allura is separate from all, as if she is a judge overseeing a court of miscreants. "So as soon as I could, I hacked into the security feeds. Shiro wasn't happy with it, but I told him he'd either consent to the investigation or have to put me on that fucking rock with you."

Lance bites his lip, smiling at his smaller friend. Shiro shifts in discomfort but doesn't speak up. Keith remains silent as well, eyes uncomfortably and fully trained on Lance.

"We found where he spiked your drink as soon as soon as Keith and the captain left," Hunk picks up, voice uncharacteristically deep and foreboding, so angry. "We saw him lift you up when you passed out in a chair and claim he was taking you to bed so you could sleep it off. The feed cuts off when he entered _his_ room."

Lance swallows and sips from his cup, fiddling with it as fuzzy memories try to resurface. He doesn't want to remember. It's bad enough knowing the little that he does.

"Normally, that's all to hehe proof we would have. There are no security feeds in any of the private sleeping quarters," Allura says calmly, and she would know since she and Coran had designed this ship, every inch of it. Coran nods to confirm her words, pouring more water into Lance's cup.

"But the bastard filmed everything," Hunk snarls, making Lance flinch against him in surprise. He can't remember ever hearing his best bro sounding so angry and ruthless.

Then a forceful chill runs down his spine as the meaning behind those words hit home. They knew. They saw. They had witnessed what he had suffered, even what he doesn't remember. His closest people had watched onscreen his humiliation and brutalization. Watched as Lotor took what wasn't ever his, as if Lance were a toy Keith hadn't wanted to share. They'd watched unconscious Lance get fucked, watched an incoherent but awake Lance fight and struggle and cry, trying too get away and only receiving bruises and bite marks in return.

Tears fill his eyes once more, but these succeed in spilling. He trembles uncontrollanly, his rasping breathing coming in quick breaths. He can't stop himself from staring wide-eyed at Keith now. Keith, who'd believed the worst of him and abandoned him on a planet that could barely be named as such. Keith who had once confessed undying love and eternal protection, to cherish him always.

Keith, who looks so guilty and so angry and so heartbroken as he stares back at Lance.

"You don't get to look at me like that," Lance croak, eyes wide and terrified. "I told you. I _told you_. You didn't believe me, even though you swore to love me and cherish me. You _promised_. You listened to his lies over me. You don't get to look at me with pity."

His eyes swung over to Shiro, desperate and panicked and feeling his world shifting under his feet like sand once more. "What about Lotor? If my punishment was to be exiled from the only home I've known for years, what did you do to Lotor?"

"His fate has yet to be determined," Shiro says cautiously, not at all used to having his methods or decisions questioned, especially not so blatantly. "He is currently in a holding cell. We were going to keep him there until we found you."

"So I am immediately judged and sentenced to exile on a planet no one bothered to check was habitable, despite the yawning lack of evidence as to my crime, but Lotor, who has a shitload of evidence, by his own hand no less, who actually _committed_ a universally grievous crime, is held in custody in the relative comfort of the prison cells of a ship." Lance puts a hand to his forehead, feeling faint. He struggles to keep his breathing under control, aided by Hunk's broad hand rubbing up and down his back. "I can't believe this, coming from people I called family. Family doesn't do this to each other! Did I mean anything to you more than an occasional jokester and a body to warm a bed?"

There are immediate denials and rebuttals to his demand, and he shakes his head hard enough that he sways. "You left me. The first sign of trouble, regardless of who was at fault, and you left me to fend for myself with only a knife that broke four days in." Despite the tears flowing down his face unbidden, he scowls hatefully, hand gripping his cup tightly. "Hunk was the only one who defended me, so fuck the rest of you. It's going to take a lot for me to come anywhere near to trusting you again."

Keith looks devastated, and Lance feels his chest constrict. He steels himself against it, but, despite everything--the betrayal, the abandonment, the harsh words--he still loves Keith. He still yearns for him, and he hates seeing him look so upset. He wants to hold and be held. He wants to kiss and cuddle and hold hands,to tease Keith and gossip and compare boyfriends with Shay.

He can't do that.

You don't do those special things when you can't trust someone anymore.

Keith had made promises, had given him hopes and dreams. They all amounted to pretty lies now.

"Lance, we're sorry," Allura tries, voice uncharacteristically wet and sad. "We came for you as soon as we found out. We want to make it right."

Lance shakes his head, eyes cast away, throat tight. It's too much to take right now, so soon after his "rescue." He swallows, fingers flexing in and out of loose fists.

"It'll take time," Hunk says, surprising them as he once again breaks his silence. "I would expect Lance to focus first on getting better before anything else."

"Quite right," Conan concurs. "He will surely be lethargic for several days. On top of his physical injuries--broken ribs, multiple infected lacerations, and hairline fractures to the left side of his jaw--Lance had traces of a neurological agent effecting the nerves in his body, parasites in his intestines, and he is still suffering from dehydration, malnourishment, and a respiratory infection similar to bronchitis." He turns to address Lance fully instead of the group at large. "I recommend you focus only on resting, eating, hydrating, and taking the antiobiotcs for no less than a week."

Lance nods, subdued, and makes as if to stand from the examination table. Hunk stops him and drops into a crouch in front of him, making grabbing motions with his hands. After a moment's hesitation, Lance mounts Hunk's back to allow him to piggyback to his room. "I don't want you to exert yourself. Not until you've recovered enough from your infection." Hunk walks with an even gait so as not to jostle his best friend. He walks to the room Lance had had before his exile, which appears to have been left untouched.

As soon as he's set down, Lance dives into his wardrobe, dragging out his most comfortable clothes, the soft oversized sweater Hunk had grown out of and hadn't protested when Lance lay claim to it, and the softest pajama pants that are 3 inches too long. Hunk disappears for a few moments and comes back to find Lance on his bed, curled around a pillow that somehow still smells like Keith. He crawls on the bed beside him and wraps the enormous quilt around them both. Lance leans against his friend gratefully, touchstarved and shaking with the need for human contact.

"This will never happen again," Hunk murmurs softly but with no less conviction. He presses his lips to the top of Lance's head in a soft gesture, just barely a kiss. "I will leave and take you with me before this ever happens again."

"This is our home," Lance protests, sniffling, eyes closing as peace sinks inot his weary bones.

"It's not a home if the family within can dispose of us so easily," the engineer snaps, his hold tightening on the slender Cuban. "And you are more important to me than any ship or hierarchy in a group of pirates. You're my only family now, Lance. And I'm sure Shay will follow if I leave with you."

"Allura will be pissed if you take one of the only women off the ship," Lance chuckles, too tired to focus on being serious now that he's safe.

"Then she'll have to make sure nothing happens to you again," Hunk remarks firmly. "It's her ship, she ought to have a say in who lives within it, regardless of what Shiro and Keith have to say. If she wanted, she could kick all of us out, and the ship would carry out her orders."

Because that's what a sentient alien ship did for the one who had built it and brought it life. Undying loyalty, and if Allura should pass on without leaving any type of will stating an inheritance, the ship would power down and never work again.

"They didn't deactivate Blue, did they?" Lance asks worriedly, now that his brain is on the thoughts of sentient ships. He hopes his beloved battle lion Hunk, Pidge, and he had designed with the help of Allura's technology hadn't been damaged and dismantled.

"Shiro tried to get Blue to bond with someone else, but she only opens for me and Allura. She lets me pilot her for routine checks, but Allura can only sit inside her. Blue tried to escape a few times to come for you. If anyone even thought of dismantling her, she put up her particle shield, and the other lions guarded her." Hunks snorts in amusement, remembering something. "Even Red wouldn't let Keith near. In fact, oddly enough, Red seemed to be angry with Keith."

"Allies in sentient robot lions," Lance says, voice drifting into sleep, a small smile on his face. He has friends, even if a few of them were robots.

"I'll take you down to visit her when you wake up," Hunk promises right before Lance succumbs to heavy sleep.

~*~~*~~*~

 _Unsurprisingly, Lance sleeps well into the next day._ He's starving when he wakes up, but he drags himself out of his bed, aware that he still has a raspy rattle in his lungs, and grabs clean clothes he knows that Hunk must have fought tooth and nail to make sure weren't disposed of. He doesn't know how he'll ever repay what Hunk has done for him. He goes to the communal baths and takes his time cleaning himself in his first hot shower in forever, using too much body wash and leaving the conditioner in his hair for an extra long time to try and repair whatever damage was done during his forced stay on that desolate rock. He cries when he has to cut chunks of his hair off due to the mats and dreads he'd obtained and isn't able to comb out, even with the conditioner aiding him.

Maybe Shay can help him cut it so it looks halfway decent. Otherwise he'll just have to wear a hat or his hood up until it's grown out enough.

Once clean and dressed, hair brushed and snipped as well as he can get it, Lance heads to the kitchens. As expected, Hunk is there, cleaning the dishes from what he can guess had been lunch. Hunk exclaims happily at seeing his friend up and about, abandoning the dishes in favor of getting Lance something to eat.

Lance tells him to just give him what he has leftover. Hunk reacts the way Lance imagines he would if Lance had actually asked to eat baby brains.

He cooks him a whole new meal, the best he can get to chicken enchiladas when using alien ingredients.

Even though Lance doesn't think he can eat the whole thing, his stomach having shrunk due to his abysmally small meals on the exile rock, he does his best, if only to keep Hunk smiling.

When he's eaten all he can, Hunk wraps the food and hides it so it will be there for when Lance wants to finish. Lance insists on helping him finish the dishes, although Hunk commandeers it so that all he does is dry them, the easiest task to do.

Next is a trip to medbay to visit Coran for a checkup. The verdict is that he's doing as well as can be expected after week of exposure and only two days of antibiotics. He's given his due dose, and from there, Hunk decides to take him to the hangars where the lions were kept.

Lance moves as quickly as he could to Blue, who perks up once she realizes he's close. Her particle barrier dissolves, and she crouches down to open her mouth and let him inside her cockpit.

It's like coming home all over again. He sighs as her warmth and the cool, soothing presence of her consciousness enters his mind. He wholeheartedly pushes his experiences at her, and she envelopes him with as much comfort and affection as a sentient alien robot lion possibly can. Lance sits in the pilot chair and strokes her controls reverently, and he swears he can feel the rasping in his lungs alleviate the slightest bit, as though his lion is trying to heal him herself.

' _I missed you, my cub_ ,' Blue croons, and he can imagine her curling around him like a protective mother lioness would with her cub on Earth in the wild.

He draws his legs up against his chest in the chair, relaxing in comfort. ' _I missed you too, Blue. I'm so glad you weren't killed while I was gone_.'

' _They would not have succeeded. We lions are family, regardless of whom created us. And I do not want nor need any other pilot_.' She nuzzles him in their mindscape plain, grooming through his fucked-up hair. ' _Had I not worried for my siblings pilots, I would have torn a hole through this ship to get to you, my cub._ '

' _As much as I would have loved to have you with me so I wasn't alone, I am glad you didn't commit manslaughter, however unintentional it would have been._ ' He strokes a hand over her controls again, her paw in his in their shared mindscape. ' _What have I missed since my stay at the luxury rock._ '

' _Red is not pleased with her cub. She has been ignoring him of late._ '

' _I thought you guys were designed to respond to your pilot at all times,_ ' Lance muses in confusion. His mindscape-self feels a soft whuff of air against his hair as she nuzzles him.

' _Red responds. She does not speak with him, and she does the bare minimum of her duties for him. She feels that he should be abandoned at least a portion as badly as you had been. She most likely will not forgive him easily. Red holds a grudge longest of us all._ '

Lance sighs and leans his head further against her, eyes closing. ' _I am unsure of what I should do, Blue. I'm still in love with him, but he hurt me so bad. I never thought in a million years that he would do anything like this to me. I thought he loved me. I thought he would believe me out of all people over anyone else. And now they've told me that it's my decision as to how Lotor is punished. I don't want that responsibility. I want nothing to do with him. If he could just disappear, that would work so much better for me. So I can just move on._ '

Mindscape-Lance tilts his head back to look at the azure-furred lioness, beautiful in her sleek lines and wise face. ' _What do I do, Blue?_ '

' _I can't make those decisions, my cub,_ ' she replies in her cool, soothing purr. She snuffles at his hair softly. ' _If it were my decision, I would shove Lotor out of an airlock and be done with it. Or crush him beneath my feet and throw him to the gorgasches to devour. The universe has no use for his kind._ '

' _I think Hunk would have a heart attack if I told him that last one,_ ' Lance chuckles weakly.

' _Hunk would agree and offer to help,_ ' she grumbles. ' _As to Keith.... I have no experiences in romantic relationships. I have my sibling companionship with my pride and I have you, my cub. If he loves you still, despite what he has done to you, and he wants to make amends, then I would make him work for it. He must repair the damage done himself. You must heal physically, and he must repair the emotional damage he caused. I would not forgive him so easily. Or, if it puts you at ease, forgive him now but do not trust until he has earned it back._ '

The blue-eyed Cuban sighs and closes his eyes again, contemplating the advice. All of those options have merit. He just needs to go the logical route and not let his emotions get in the way right now. Emotions are what had led to this in the first place. If he hadn't fallen for Keith, if he'd kept himself distant and avoided everyone but Hunk, maybe this wouldn't have happened. He can't say for sure that the rape would have been avoided, but he sure as hell wouldn't have been accused of cheating or been exiled. He would have only had to heal, maybe he would have been believed.

He also doesn't know whether he should just turn Lotor over to the Intergalactic Law Enforcement Association and be done with it. It'd be tricky doing so without being arrested for being a pirate. He could always submit the video evidence, but another part of him wants to destroy the file and pretend it never existed.

There's too much at play. Too much that needs to be done, that needs to be decided. He wants to just forget it ever happened. He wants to hide away. He wants to go back to where he was home with his siblings, no one knew about his "deviance" and loved him and respected him.

He wants to crawl into Keith's bed and mess up his sheets and make a nest of the blankets and pillows Keith kept on hand just for Lance. He wants to bury himself in his lover's scent and hide away until the pain is gone.

He wants a lot of things.

Lance spends so much time in Blue, pumping neurons and focusing on the problems on hand, he starts to feel drowsy. It is at this point that Blue decides to summon Hunk via communication with Yellow. The cheerful Samoan comes in to scoop his sleepy friend up and carry him off to rest in a more comfortable place.

He'll think on Blue's advice later, when he's not as prone to exhaustion.

~*~~*~~*~

 _The next week or so, Lance spent most_ of his time resting, eating and drinking, and doing some real soul-searching. Aside from inviting him to any meetings that needed to be had, most of the other inhabitants of the ship left him alone. Pidge invites him to help tinker, or watch her tinker more often, on her inventions and gadgets. Hunk is always nearby, and Shay by proxy. Shiro makes an effort to check in with him at least twice a day, but because he was at least a part of the plan to drop him off on another planet, Lance tries not to initiate contact with him.

If he's not in his room or with Blue, Lance finds that he can almost always see Keith on the edge of his field of vision. He knows the other male wants to approach, wants to say something--apologize or otherwise. He just doesn't want anything to do with that right now, so he pretends not to notice or makes a point of blatantly ignoring Keith's presence. He'll eventually give in and hear him out; he's just not ready to deal with it.

Not more than five days after Lance had been brought back to the ship, Lotor somehow manages to escape his confinement, apparently intent on getting to Lance to finish what he started, whatever that meant. As far as they all knew, he hadn't been intending on murder, and he'd already raped Lance, so what else could he possibly have left unfinished? Luckily, Keith and Shiro recapture him when he attempts to approach Lance in the mess hall before he can cause anymore havoc, and Hunk takes the opportunity to punch him in the face in lieu of helping them subdue the wild, wiry purple alien.

"Lance, what do you want us to do with him?" Keith demands, teeth gritted with the anger that he had to recapture a prisoner. How had he escaped his cell?

Lance shrugs. "I couldn't care less about him. Blue has suggested shoving him out an airlock, but she has also suggested letting her exact her own justice on him and then throwing his body to the gorgasches. As long as I never have to see him again." His skin crawls uncomfortably just from being this close, a whole fifteen feet between them.

Keith looks conflicted, as though torn between killing the man in his grasp and going to Lance to comfort and shelter. He has no more right to the latter, so Lance ignores it. He literally turns his back on the situation, finishing his meal while the others look on. Lotor, offended at being so easily disregarded, rants and squalls ineffectively, spitting with rage, but it amounts to nothing.

In the end, Shiro and Keith shove him out of an airlock. The windows blacken so no one has to watch the grotesque and horrifying death the man suffers. They put a burst of motion into the ships engines to move away from the dessicated corpse, leaving it for whatever space-wandering creature that may come across it for a meal.

After that, the nightmares start.

The night terrors drive him out of bed, make him wander the ship, futilely try to escape the memories warped by dreams. Sometimes he goes to Blue and the other Lions, who curl around him protectively like a pride of lionesses surrounding a weak or sick cub. Sometimes he goes to the training room to work off excess energy--but only after he has been cleared by Coran medically. If Hunk is still awake, pulling an all-nighter on whatever trinket or gadget he's working on, occasionally with Pidge, he'll spend time with him, just so he's not alone, the Samoan's comforting presence staving off the demons. Some nights, he's frozen with fear, clutching blankets as he lies in bed, staring at the wall or the ceiling, praying for relief.

The lack of sleep takes its toll in the form of dark circles under reddened eyes and a lack of appetite. Hunk makes sure he eats enough regardless, and Coran and Shay begin research on herbs and medicines that will help ease the terrors and the sleeplessness.

One night, when he's wandering, listless and exhausted, he goes to the training room, only to find it already occupied by Keith. An angry Keith. Or maybe a sad one. It is always hard to tell with him. He's pummeling a bot that has those pads used in boxing training on the ends of its arms. At first, Lance is going to leave. He hasn't had contact with Keith in forever, mostly because of his avoidance, and he's not sure if he's ready for it even now.

But something makes him stop now. He clutches the blanket he has around his shoulders, tired eyes watching as Keith wrecks everything thrown at him. The bots cycle through many scenarios to suit Keith's needs. The boxer bot's arms break, the taekwondo bot's head flies off, and swordsman bot doesn't stand a chance, sliced and diced all over the floor. Without meaning to, Lance's eyes trace Keith's form, sleek, muscular and powerful, shirtless, dappled with sweat, his longer hair--outgrown all over so it's no longer the mullet he used to have--pulled back into a short ponytail. He licks his lips unconsciously, remembering when that body used to be all his.

Finally, Keith pauses, breathing heavily, and he realizes something is there. He turns violet eyes to tired azure. His fists flex nervously. Lance hesitates, then carefully shuffles forward, fingers nervously clenching in his blanket.

He doesn't know why. He's just moving on instinct, on autopilot. Maybe his problem is over-thinking. Maybe he just needs to feel and let his instincts guide him. Maybe he needs to let go and let things happen naturally, because what he's been doing so far isn't working. Nothing has felt right, and something has to give somewhere.

Lance stops mere inches away from Keith, who seems to be holding his breath, as if one of his winded pants would scare the other off if it's too loud or too quick. After a moment more, Lance leans over and places his forehead in the secure knook of Keith's collarbone, his favorite place to be. He releases a bone-weary sigh, eyes closed.

Tension he didn't know he had releases from his body, and everything in his head quiets, calming. Lance whimpers and leans more heavily against the other, and Keith's trembling arms come up to hold him carefully.

"Lance?" Keith whispers softly, uncertain.

Lance grunts, his weariness encroaching on him now that he's stopped moving. He nuzzles gently at Keith's bare flesh, sweaty from exertion, salty against his nose and lips. Ghosts of the past whisper about the familiarity of the act, easing their way into his brain and reminding him of what had once been.

"Are you okay?"

"Tired. Nightmares." He brings his dangling arms around Keith's ribcage, uncaring how the warmth of his blanket must feel uncomfortable to the other man after working out so vigorously and building up an abundance of his own heat. After another pause, Lance quietly admits, "I miss you."

This time, Keith sighs and tightens his embrace around Lance. "I miss you, too," he confesses just as softly.

"Do you still love me?" Lance asks brokenly, the words bursting from him against his will, but he doesn't try to stop them either. He needs to know, and he's too tired to fight himself.

"Yes, I always have. I love you, Lance, I swear I do." He presses a kiss to Lance's messy curls, dragging him as close as he dares. "I miss you so much, baby. My starshine boy."

Lance laughs wetly at the endearment, tears pricking the corners of his bloodshot eyes, and he sniffles.

"Let me go shower, Lance. Then we can talk a little more, okay?" Keith is reluctant to leave, but he also probably doesn't want to have this conversation, long-awaited and very much in need of being hashed out, when sweaty and slightly smelly. He leans back away from Lance, who whines in protest but allows it to happen. "Do you wanna wait in my room? Or yours? You don't have to..."

Lance thinks it over for a minute and decides on Keith's room. Less distance to travel. He shuffles the opposite direction Keith uses and blinks at the security pad when he gets to the door. He forgot to ask Keith what the pass code is. On a whim, he tries the one he remembers from before this shitfest went down, when they were still together and happy--his own birthday because Keith is a sap. He's surprised when it works, and something inside him squirms.

Even though he had believed the worst of him, Keith had kept Lance's birthday as his pass code.

Lance swallows a lump in his throat and heads inside. His fingers tremble as he turns on the light and dims it so there's just enough to see. His breath hitches briefly when he sees his old and favorite hoodie spread over Keith's pillow, obviously slept on. He'd wondered what happened to it...

 _Sap_ , he thinks, emotions choking him. He sits on the edge of the bed, trying to reign in his emotions, fighting the urge to cry. The longer he sits there, he also has to refrain from sprawling and rolling in the scent saturating the room. It used to be _Lance &Keith_ and now it's just _Keith._ It's not right, but at the same time he wants to just luxuriate in the smell, soak in it, cling to it and make sure his skin and hair are stained with it.

Instead, his fingers pluck at the comforter beneath him. His leg bounces with nervous energy. Nothing in here has changed. The familiarity is soothing and stifling at the same time, and it's heartbreaking. How had Keith sufferered in Lance's forced absence? Had he felt guilty for what he'd done? Did he keep reconsidering his actions? Did he feel a sense of relief mixed with horror when Hunk told them of the video files he and Pidge had discovered? What had he done when he realized just how nefarious Lotor was?

He's jerked from his musings when Keith finally walks through his own door, his expression morphing from apprehension to cautious relief. He's dressed in his favorite flannel pajama bottoms and an old wife beater, hair wrapped up on top of his head in a towel, boots held in his hands while comfy slippers housed his feet.

Lance swallows the saliva that suddenly pools in his mouth.

Keith drops his boots off to the side of the door as it "shoosh"s closed. He drags over his office chair that he has set up at his desk, and he straddles it backwards to lean his chin on the headrest. "I'm glad you actually came and waited," Keith admits.

Lance shrugs self-consciously. He's quiet for a moment, then says, "Nothing in here has changed. You didn't even update the password."

A flush colors Keith's neck. "I...didn't have the heart to."

"Yeah, you need to explain that to me," Lance says, disbelief coloring his voice. He's not trying to be aggressive, but it seriously doesn't make any sense. "How did you have the will to evict me from my only home and leave me on a desolate planet, but you didn't 'have the heart' to change a passcode?"

Keith sighs and rubs the back of his neck, then scrubs the towel hard against his hair before pulling it free and tossing it at the hamper. He grabs his brush from the desk and starts to work the tangles from his dark tresses.

"I realize now that Lotor had been harassing you for a long time before he did that final thing. That he was targeting you. He had it out for me, too, though. I don't know what his motivation was." Keith frowns. "I don't know if he was trying to eliminate competition, or if he was trying to somehow get me to leave my post as second-in-command. Maybe he's just fucking evil and liked to manipulate and destroy lives." He takes a breath, as if to fortify himself. "Either way, he had me convinced that you were fucking around behind my back. I didn't believe it at first. I was firm in my faith of you being loyal to me. You stopped flirting with everyone once we became official. You had many chances to get with someone stronger and better and less socially awkward with me, and yet you always came back."

He smiles sadly, and Lance settles down in his place for the long story. Everything in his tone and posture, the expression on his face, it all says that he's speaking the truth. Not a hint of a lie anywhere, and Keith had honestly never had the energy to tell any untruth.

"But he was there, all the time, in my ear and whispering those things, over and over. I think he was trying to brainwash me, now that I'm able to think clearly without him there constantly. Whatever his reason, he wanted me to believe that you were unfaithful, that you were going to sabotage the ship or the crew, that you were going to betray us sooner or later. Everything he said eventually started to twist my perceptions. He even had me believing that Pidge was going to hack into the Lions and cause mayhem as soon as we turned our backs. He told me Hunk was developing a tasteless poison. Allura was going to sell us out to our enemies because she was sick of pirates on her ship.

"The conspiracy theories and lies were endless, and he even woke me up at night, the nights we didn't share a bed, to tell me about this shit! It was never-ending, and I eventually couldn't help but believe it." Keith takes a deep breath. Lets it out. His tortured violet eyes are dark with anxiety, and he gazes pleadingly at Lance before he continues. "I didn't want to believe it, Lance. I love you so much, and I hated hearing things like that about you. But he twisted everything around on me, changed my perceptions on everything, and when I saw you with him...I don't think I even really saw you! I saw the thing he had made me believe was you. I saw a sexual demon curled up in his bed with fluids streaking him and his lips all puffy and red, just like when you were in my bed. I didn't see the marks where you tried to fight him off. And then all I saw was red. I don't even remember what was said, what I did. I only know from the video footage Pidge and Hunk dug up."

His face twists into one of unimaginable heartbreak, at least it would have been unimaginable if Lance hadn't already experienced every bit of it. "And then when you were gone, Hunk purposely burnt my food or gave me the bad bits, and I thought, ' _Lotor was right, he is trying to poison me_.' The Lions refused to allow me entry, and Red screamed at me, then ignored me, and I thought ' _Lotor was right, Pidge is going to destroy us all with our Lions_.' And Lotor even told me how  _passionate_ you were during sex, how you arched and whimpered, and I remembered how you would do that with me, how you would promise that only I could do that to you, make you come as hard as you did only with me. He told me how you clawed at his back in the heat of the moment, and it didn't even occur to me that you never clawed at me, only clutched and begged me to get closer, beg for kisses, beg for  _more_. And I thought ' _Lotor was right. Lance never loved me._ '

"Shiro caught on though. He dragged me away from Lotor every chance he could, got me to spar until I was too tired to think, let alone believe what was being forced down my throat. I missed you so much, I couldn't sleep anyway. I stole one of your hoodies so I could surround myself in your scent, and I mourned you as if you were dead. Eventually, I stopped leaving my room unless I was with Shiro or training or went to the kitchens to make myself something to eat because I was sure that if I ate with everyone else, Hunk would finally succeed in killing me. And I would deserve it because of what I did to you."

Lance swallows, heart breaking at the helplessness on Keith's face, the other man's voice broken and ragged, just barely holding back tears. He's not sure what he can do to ease Keith's pain, or if he should even try. He can't imagine what it must have been like, that kind of psychological torment. To be forced to believe that his friends, people he trusted, were trying to kill him? Let alone that the one he's been sleeping with was fucking around behind his back. Lance doesn't know what he would have done in Keith's place.

"I know that it's still no excuse for what I did, Lance. I can't describe it aside from being outside of my body at the time. I was so hurt and angry and tired..." Keith's voice falters and fades weakly. Lance can see the other man's vulnerability, his hopelessness.

It's hard to think of Keith being so easily manipulated. He always seems so strong, so confident and powerful, quick and quick-witted. Lance has to remember that he isn't the only one that hides his weakness. Where he hides it under jokes and smiles and general goofiness, Keith hides it under an exterior of glares and hardheadedness. It's all a facade, something to protect their soft, squishy insides.

And Lotor had months to work on each of them, whittling and worrying away at their defenses until he could worm his parasitic evil inside them, sewing seeds of doubt and pain. He tried to take what he wanted from them, and he succeeded in part, but he didn't win it all.

Lance reaches out, across the expanse that had seem oh-so wide, like a chasm neither of them had a chance to cross. His hand rests on Keith's arm, hesitating, then slid down to link fingers with his hand. He tugs gently, and Keith rises from his seat, carefully moving to sit beside Lance on the bed. They both move like they're on eggshells. Lance squeezes his fingers, licking his lips as he tries to put into words what is running through his head.

"You hurt me, Keith. A lot. There's no getting around that." He sees Keith wince, but he doesn't pause long enough to dwell on it. He needs to get this out before he loses his nerve. "You abandoned me on a planet without bothering to see if it could sustain life beyond making sure there was oxygen to breathe. But I still love you. I still need you. All through those lonely nights, I just wanted you there. I wanted you to hold me and tell me that you loved me, that you didn't care that I was damaged goods, and that you'd make sure I was taken care of. That you understood that it'll be a while for me to be intimate beyond a kiss because the mere thought of being naked around someone right now makes me want to puke."

"I still want to be with you," he whispers, leaning forward to rest his head in the niche of Keith's shoulder. "I love you, and if you think we can still be together, I would very much like to start by curling up beside you in bed and maybe get a full night's sleep."

There's a tense moment where Keith is completely silent. Lance keeps his head down, biting his lip nervously. His heart flutters in anxiety, and he swears he can hear his blood rushing through his veins with alarming clarity. He knows what he wants Keith to say, to respond, but he doesn't know, at this juncture, what exactly Keith will do now. There's so much between them, and they have a very long way to go to get back to what they used to be.

But then a kiss is dropped against his hair, near his ear. "I would like nothing better than to be with you again, Lance," Keith whispers, almost too quiet to be heard, even as his lips are pressed to the shell of Lance's ear. "We can go as slow as you need, baby. I'll do anything for you. Anything that makes you happy."

Lance lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He circles his free hand around Keith's waist, tugging him in for a hug. He practically crawls into Keith's lap, dragging the towel away and burying his hands in the soft, wet hair, clutching perhaps a little too tightly but unwilling to relinquish his hold.

And as they sprawl across the bed, Lance combing out the shower tangles from Keith's hair and soothing them both to sleep, he knows that this is far from okay. It'll take a long time for them both to heal. Too much has happened to just sweep under the rug. He knows, though, that they'll face it together, and that's all he can really ask for.


End file.
